The Lone Watchman
by ChibiAnimeFreak
Summary: All Prussia could do was watch from the sidelines as Austria and Hungary made a happy life for themselves. Request one shot. one-sided PruAus


_Okay, a request that has been a longtime coming for finding the Homeric simile in chapter five of the now almost fifteen chapter _Rallentando Deep Within_ XD _

_They requested a one-sided PruAus fic placed during the time when the Austro-Hungary empire existed. So, uh, here. I've never written this pairing before, nor have I written from Prussia's point of view (and rarely in first person) so tell me how it is? I know it's slightly out of character, but it's supposed to be angsty and stuff, so… that's my excuse? _

_Disclaimer: Hetalia isn't my, people. Do you think I'd be writing crappy fanfiction if I had created something like the genius that is Hetalia?_

o.O.0.O.o

_I shouldn't be here_.

That thought repeated itself in my head as I crept up behind the thorny brush behind the familiar house, its cold stonewalls as daunting as ever. They kept me out here, out in the harsh world without him, without the reason I was now holding my breath as the leaves brushed my silver hair from my forehead. My ruby eyes peered through the thinning branches of the late-autumn shrubbery searchingly, heart thumping in my chest.

It wasn't the first time I was doing this, the first time I was sneaking through the woods surrounding his villa with the practiced stealth of a longtime warrior and solider. It had become a sick part of my schedule—however much one could have in times like these. It was now a seemingly normal part of my week, and no matter how many times I told myself this would be the last time, it never was. Without a doubt, every week I would find myself traveling south down the more overgrown of the paths, the ones a normal traveler wouldn't want to find himself on during the night, and towards his house—towards _their_ house.

It was like a drug. The small thrill I received each time I viewed him, each time I saw him smile or heard him speak, was addictive. Whatever I did to prevent my coming here, something would remind me, would coerce me into craving for him again, for even the smallest glance of him.

It was sad, and it was sick, but it was what I had become.

She walked out of the house, the door creaking closed behind her. In her hand was a broom, something so familiar and yet so alien to see her with. To think that only a hundred years ago she had been fighting alongside me in the woods like a man, beating me up as much as I had done to her, and helping each other do it to others every so often.

But now she was wearing that dress, swirling around the courtyard and humming a merry tune as she went about her work. The flower in her flowing hair mocked me, and I felt a scowl pull its way across my face.

I did blame her for it. I knew I shouldn't; I knew it was all technically the work of our bosses that made things like this occur, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't repress the anger that boiled in the pit of my stomach as I watched her going about being _his_ housewife so happily. That it was _him_ making _her_ this happy, and vice versa.

Our past rivalry-like friendship helped to curb it, but she had changed so much it was hard not to think of her as a completely different person, making it easier to forget what we had been through together.

I shifted so my weight wasn't pressing my knees into the leaf-strewn dirt, and instead I was sitting normally, trying to push down the bile rising in my stomach as she swept the cobble-stoned area.

She wasn't why I was here.

So I waited with bated breath for his imminent appearance. I knew it was only a matter of time now; whenever she was out here, he came to join her, to keep his lovely _wife_ company.

The word hit me like a knife to the heart, the reality of it nearly crushing the organ I hadn't even known existed until I met him. That was one thing I could never be for him: his wife. Not only was it biologically impossible, but it simply wasn't in my nature to be that way. Words like docile, cleanly, sweet, and lovely didn't apply to me, and never will.

But that was what he seemed to like in his pristine lifestyle, in his perfect family picture. Because that was what they were—him, her, and the kid—a family. Perfect.

My gut wrenched painfully as I heard the familiar footfalls coming from within the hall leading to the outside. There really was too much of an echo in that hallway. I would know; I've been there.

But then the door was pushed open and he emerged, pushing all other thoughts from my mind. He hadn't changed in years; his wavy hair was still that perfect so-black-it-was-almost-purple color and slicked back in a way I had always figured he meant to be neat, but really ended up looking perfectly mussed. Violet eyes were partially hidden behind the same glasses, peering over the top and down on the world, for who was better than him?

Frown solid and posture impeccable, he walked forward, brushing past her shoulder in way of greeting before sitting down delicately on the patio furniture.

She opened her mouth to say something, but I couldn't hear over the pounding of my heart. My eyes roamed over his body, so proverbial yet so distant it was painful. He was right there, so close I could take three steps and be right next to him, be able to run my hand over his face and kiss him, to touch him how I knew I would never be able to.

But even as I saw the millions of impossibilities play out in my mind, a part of me waited, hopeful, for their precious empire to fall. They were great together, truly powerful, but all great empires fell eventually. I had watched it countless times before, had watched it happen to myself, and knew that, no matter how much we thought ourselves immortal, reality would inevitably crash down eventually and eradicate all those familiar faces.

An even smaller part of myself, a part I never even would have surmised I contained—I wasn't exactly known for my selflessness—hoped and prayed that would never happen. I didn't want to see him go through that pain, the pain of losing everything, of watching the people you represent fall into poverty and adopt a blanket of despair, of falling.

Then he spoke, and I strained to hear the words over the sounds of the forest behind me and the soft whispering of the broom across the stones. I couldn't make them out exactly, but I could hear the murmur of his voice, so often called stuck up and nasally by some of my closest friends, but to me like the melody of an angel.

Without knowing it, I had unconsciously leaned forward, stretching my ears as far as I could to catch wind of more of him. But I had gone too far. With regret I watched seemingly from outside my body as I fell forward into the bush, the leaves' rustling sounding like thunder in my ears as I scurried back into a seating position. I shuffled away as quickly as I could, ignoring her call of "Who's there?" and standing when I felt I was concealed enough.

I sprinted through the forest, searching for the familiar path in my panic. The blood pounded in my ears, and my lungs ached as I made my way through the thick woods, but I couldn't help the smile that stretched its way across my face.

o.O.O.0.o

_Well there ya go~! I really would like feedback on this cus it's kind of different than my usual, if only in terms of characters… /hasn't written anything but Spamano_

_Chibianimefreak out~_


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